


Pictures Came With Touch

by OwenToDawn



Series: Touch Starved [2]
Category: Fire Emblem Series, Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Anal Fingering, Established Relationship, F/M, M/M, Mild Painplay, Multi, Needles, Post-Golden Deer Route (Fire Emblem: Three Houses), Tattoos, Threesome - F/M/M, Vaginal Sex, mild bloodplay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-08
Updated: 2020-09-08
Packaged: 2021-03-07 02:34:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,068
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26359555
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OwenToDawn/pseuds/OwenToDawn
Summary: Claude isn’t sure what it is about the hand poke tattoos. The sting and ache of the needle and the tickle of blood welling to the surface only to be wiped away by Petra’s gloved hand does something to him, traps his body in a confused loop where it isn’t sure if it’s in pain or not.
Relationships: Cyril/Claude von Riegan/Petra Macneary
Series: Touch Starved [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1915453
Comments: 2
Kudos: 9





	Pictures Came With Touch

**Author's Note:**

> I've decided to start a series cuz I wrote the Dedue/Claude cuz I missed touching people (I hate you quarantine) and then I wrote this because I miss getting tattoos 
> 
> The tags make this fic sound scarier than it is. They fuck while doing a hand poke tattoo on Claude's chest, so the blood is mentioned I think twice, and the pain is very minor. But it is mentioned, because I miss getting tattoos really bad haha
> 
> Title from Touch by Daft Punk
> 
> Comments are loved

“Fuck…”

The word spills out of Claude’s lips in a drawl and Cyril laughs, running a hand through his hair as Petra eases the needle back out of his chest near his right shoulder. There’s the sound of her grabbing the ink bottle and then the sharp pain of the needle returns as it slides into his skin with more ink. They’ve been at it for two hours now. Normally a tattoo of this size doesn’t take so long. His will match Cyril’s and Petra’s both, and Cyril’s only took an hour when she’d done it for him a month ago, but Cyril didn’t take such pleasure in the feeling the way Claude does. Once they’d realized how hard Claude got under Petra’s careful touch, it had turned into a bit of a game.

Claude isn’t sure what it is about the hand poke tattoos. The sting and ache of the needle and the tickle of blood welling to the surface only to be wiped away by Petra’s gloved hand does something to him, traps his body in a confused loop where it isn’t sure if it’s in pain or not. Sometimes, the slide of the needle doesn’t hurt at all. It’s almost satisfying the way the cracking of a strained joint is. The why doesn’t really matter in the end, he supposes. The sensations arouse him. And that gives Petra and Cyril both a lot of ways to play with him.

“The wings are almost done,” Petra says. She wipes his skin again, the abrasive pain making him flinch. “Are you sure you can handle this last one?”

The question is said with a teasing lilt to her voice and Claude huffs out a breath, trying to get his composure together enough to respond, but then Cyril’s hand closes around his cock and gives a slow stroke and all that comes out of his mouth is a low groan. He hears Petra laugh, the sound of needles being pushed around in their case, and then another ink covered needle pushes into his skin. The combination of sensations nearly overwhelms him, and it takes everything in him to stay still. She pulls the needle out, wipes the blood away, and Claude’s breath escapes in harsh and quick pants.

“Fuck, fuck, please…”

“I’ll hold him, go ahead,” Cyril says, wrapping firm arms around Claude’s chest below the tattoo and down lower around his stomach.

Petra grins and sets her tools aside before tugging her gloves off and setting one hand just above the tattoo, which is still beading with small drops of blood. A soft glow of Faith magic and a deep thrumming ache radiates through him, making him jerk in Cyril’s grip as it layers on top of all the other sensations humming through his body. Then she pulls away entirely, slipping out of bed and heading to the connecting bathroom.

The healing magic will keep the tattoo wounds closed as long as he doesn’t do anything crazy. Cyril had reopened the pin sized wounds twice after Petra made his when he returned to training too quickly, and while Claude likes this interplay of sensations that they’ve created in the bedroom, he doesn’t really have any interest in adding to that. Cyril drags a hand across his chest, thumbing over his nipple as he kisses his neck. Claude sighs, head lolling to the side to give Cyril more room to work with, the scrape of his stubble sending delighted shivers skittering down his back.

Petra teases them sometimes. Claude can’t grow a full beard for the life of him, and Cyril struggles to stay clean shaven, his hair growing far too fast these days. Right now, Claude finds himself quite grateful for that fact.

Petra slips back into the bedroom, but this time her hair is tied back and her top is gone, giving Claude full view of the tattoo that sits on the right side of her chest, the finished version of what’s half done on his own. A stylized moon using ancient Brigid art techniques with wyvern wings on either side in the style of traditional Almyran artwork sits just below her collarbone. The three of them can’t really get married, not officially. But this…this is something just as meaningful that Petra designed and marked into their skin herself, and that makes it mean more than any ring or official proclamation.

Or, he supposes, it would if he could manage to get his done without having the desperate and all-encompassing need to get off.

“Now how shall we take care of this?” Petra asks as she climbs up onto the bed and shuffles on her knees over to them.

It’s all the warning he has before her fingers pinch the head of his cock, walking the delicate line between pain and pleasure that he’s been balancing on all afternoon. Cyril’s hand slides down to squeeze his balls and he jerks between them. He feels like a puppet, tied to the strings of their fingers and hands and needles alike, coaxed into a myriad of positions and subject to a variety of sensations that make him move without thinking.

“I don’t know how much more he can take,” Cyril says.

“Then I guess I’ll take it easy on him,” Petra says.

Their hands pull away from his cock as Petra shifts to straddle both of them, the soft silk of her deep pink skirt riding up high on her thighs before she sinks down in one smooth motion on his cock. Claude chokes on his breath, staring up at the ceiling, arched in Cyril’s harsh grip as the feeling of the warm wet of her cunt clenches down around him. Undoubtedly, she’d prepped herself when she’d been gone. He slides right in, deep as he can, and she rolls her hips with a soft noise of her own as she starts to ride him.

Desperate to ground himself, he grabs at her thighs, feels her muscles flex and release as she twists in his lap, but the moment he has a handle on himself, Cyril’s blunt nails rake across his ribcage. Every nerve ending already feels like it’s alight from the tattoos, so it burns, tugging his mind in another direction. Petra and Cyril overwhelm him in turn with the mixture of pleasure and pain, pushing and pulling his attention from one sensation to the other and Claude sinks into it.

“Gods, the way you sound…” Cyril’s voice is rough and harsh in his ear.

He can feel how hard Cyril is through his trousers, pressed against Claude’s lower back, and it fills him with some sort of bone deep satisfaction to feel Cyril grind up against him. Petra sighs and pushes down harder, hand coming up to play with one of her nipples. Claude swallows, watching as Petra’s mouth drops open and soft gasps escape her as she plays, her other hand caressing her own stomach. He reaches up to cup her other breast, rubbing his thumb over her nipple, back and forth so she shivers and trembles on top of him.

“Gods, Claude, you…fuck…” Her eyes open and she offers a weak smile. “You feel so good in me…”

No sooner are the words out of her mouth, Cyril’s hand comes up to squeeze his pec, just under where the sensitive skin of his new ink is. It sends a resounding ache through him, straight down to his balls. He’d like to think he has decent stamina, but after hours of teasing, the thudding and heavy pained coupled with Petra’s soft praise has him spilling inside her with a choked noise. Petra doesn’t seem to mind, dropping her hands to brace on his chest so she has the leverage to grind down harder on him, milking his cock until his noises turned pained.

She pulls off of him then, the sticky combined mess of their come spilling out over his cock before she flops onto the bed with a bounce on the side, wiggling her way out of her skirt. Cyril slides his hands up under Claude’s arms, lifting him easily and depositing him on the other side before kneeling up and shoving his trousers down enough to free his cock before rolling on top of Petra and pressing their lips together as he slides inside of her. Claude watches with a dazed expression as he pokes and prods at the aching muscle in his chest, shivering at the bolts of pleasured pain it sends through him.

He loves watching Cyril and Petra together. Even now, frantic as they are from holding back their own arousal until they were done taking care of Claude, they’re beautiful to watch. Cyril’s hands, though efficient and firm, slide along Petra’s skin with such reverence, it makes something warm in Claude’s chest unfurl and spread through his limbs, filling him with contentment. There’s nothing better than watching two people he loves love each other.

“Claude-“ Petra chokes at his name, hand flailing out to him.

He grabs it, unable to help a short laugh from how tight she squeezes it as she arches up into Cyril, rhythmic moans escaping her as Cyril fucks into her hard and fast the way she likes it when she’s so worked up. Her back arches, chest heaving as her breath pushes out of her in one long moan as she comes. Cyril’s teeth scrape along her neck, a delicate tease, and she lets out a broken sound as her nails bite into the back of Claude’s hand as she shivers and shakes beneath him. Her legs collapse on either side of Cyril and for a moment, they’re all still.

“Can I…” Cyril starts. They both know how sensitive Petra can get after coming. Claude watches at the way Cyril’s back and hips tremble from the effort to stay still and he reaches his other hand out to stroke a reassuring line down his back. “Petra…I…”

“Gentle, come on,” she says, bringing her legs up to squeeze his sides.

Cyril almost collapses on top of her in relief, burying his face in her neck as he thrusts into her, his motions careful and controlled. Claude shifts closer, pressing against both of them and holding Petra’s hand close to his chest as he brings his lips to hers, drinking in her soft sighs and gasps. He can tell from Cyril’s breathing that he’s having a rough time, but it doesn’t concern him. Cyril likes a challenge. It just enhances the experience for him. Claude slides one of his hands between them, fingers tracing Petra’s entrance where her own fluids and some of his own come slips out of her, smiling against Petra’s cheek when she wrenches her mouth away to gasp.

Once his fingers are wet, he pulls his hand back and then slips it behind Cyril instead, rubbing against his hole. He’s greeted with a shocked and choked noise from Cyril. Claude eases his fingers inside, pulling back so he can sit up and crook his fingers at the right angle, pressing down on his prostate. Cyril lets out a noise closer to a whimper, shoving hard into Petra and then staying just like that, every muscle in his body trembling as Claude continues to press down, moving the tips of his fingers in a tight circle against the soft spot inside him.

“I’m…oh…”

“Come on, come for us,” Claude says.

Cyril goes completely still, for just a moment, and then the tension in him breaks with a low moan as his hips twitch, fucking into Petra just a little deeper as he comes. Claude milks him through it, grinning at the high-pitched yelp he gets in response. Petra rolls her eyes at him and Claude laughs as he pulls his fingers out before dropping a kiss on Cyril’s lower back.

“Good job team,” he says.

“It’s not a training exercise,” Cyril all but whines into Petra’s neck.

“It sort of is,” Petra says as she runs one of her hands up and down Cyril’s back. “Imagine when I do his big back tattoo. We need to build up the stamina.”

“You’re both crazy,” Cyril mumbles.

Claude slides his clean hand into Cyril’s hair, pulling his head back so he can press their lips together in a quick kiss. “You love us anyways.”

Cyril smiles. “Yeah, of course I do.”


End file.
